An hour behind schedule on the morning of May 4th we left Christina's parents’ house and pointed the truck east. The plan was to take two weeks to work our way to Virginia where we would visit Brian's family. We didn’t plan our route exactly, but we had pinpointed several stops along the way that we wanted to make. The most important part of this lack of a precise plan was that we would navigate to each spot along the way with the Google Maps options to avoid highway and tolls clicked.

Touring slowly through the heart of the USA has been something that I wanted to do for a while. I think that desire has grown over the recent years as I have gotten bored of blasting west to east with long days of interstate driving to get from point to point, usually with not much worth seeing along the way. At some point, I’d like to do a whole Tour de Americana trip. Right now our schedule doesn’t allow for that, but at least we can sample some of what that might look like.

The first planned stop of our drive was the highest point in Kansas, Mount Sunflower, sitting at 4039’ (1231m). If it wasn’t for the fence, stones, and art marking the place, it would have been challenging to have separated it from any of the other gentling rolling hills in this area. Comparing this to the landscapes that we have become so accustomed to, there is a very unique beauty to this place.

After signing the registry at the summit, having some snacks, and making some jokes about being the highest vehicle in all of Kansas we set off again. We followed gravel farm roads for a bit before jumping back on Route 4o, then headed south on Route 83 and finally joined K-4, we followed that east to our camp spot for the 1st night.

This area of the country is often referred to as America’s bread basket. Most of our grains come from this region, and signs of its industry are hard to miss. Often towns are seen on the distant horizon by their towering grain silos long before you are in the town itself.

Just before sunset, we arrived in the area where we were planning on camping for the night, on the edge of Cedar Bluff Reservoir. Dirt roads led us through large fields of wheat, our timing couldn’t have been more perfect as the weather allowed for some beautiful golden light over the sea of vibrant green wheat.

Sunday morning, we were up and out of camp pretty early. Despite not wanting to drive very far each day, we knew on our 1st two days we were going to cover a lot of ground. It still felt like we were too close to home to go really slowly, and that we needed to cover some distance to get into the unique areas of Kansas that we really wanted to see. We had our sights set on the Flint Hills area of eastern Kansas and needed to cover some ground.

After chipping away at a couple of hours of driving, we noticed a small diner on the corner of the main intersection in La Crosse, KS. We happily pulled over and enjoyed a warm breakfast in a dining room that was heavily decorated with American flag-themed banners and crosses. While we ate we overheard a local man talk to a family about his recovery from a motorcycle crash, the grandmother of the family remarked that she was glad to see that he was back in his boots and working on the farm again.

After leaving the diner we put a few more hours of driving in behind us. Our route continued dead east along K-4 before it made a zig and zag and landed us on Route 56 which we followed to Strong City, KS. Unknowingly I made a wrong turn and missed the turn that would have taken us to the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve, I suppose that leaves us with something to come back to. We carried on to follow dirt roads through the Flint Hills that would wander us closer to Teter Rock. Originally a large pile of rocks stood here to help guide homesteaders, but over time they gradually disappeared. The large rocks that stand there now were erected in 1954 to honor the previous landmark.

Unfortunately, light rain and completely saturated ground kept us in the truck. Not wanting to get us, Greta, or the inside of our truck muddy we opted to stay inside and take in the view from the comfort of our seats before continuing.

I’m happy to say that the Flint Hills area was as pretty as I had hoped. Even though the weather was less than ideal when we were there, it is an area that I would like to come back to experience again.

As the day moved along so did we. We pressed further east into Kansas to find camp near the John Redman Reservoir, originally we had planned to camp on a small strip of public land close to the reservoir. Upon our arrival, we learned that there had been some substantial rainfall recently and that the water level was entering flood stage, the bit of land that we had hoped to camp on was underwater. Thankfully there were several campgrounds close by and we were able to find a nice spot for ourselves for the night. We spent the rest of Sunday enjoying a nice quiet camp with only one other distant neighbor, which we thought was strange, such a beautiful area was so empty. The following morning we would soon find out why.

The following morning started much like every other, we were up and milling about making our coffee and breakfast when the texts started to come in. Several from each of our mothers who were rightfully worried about us spending a few days in tornado alley. We very quickly learned that for the area we were in there had been several severe storm-warming posted. I think we both initially didn’t take them very seriously. If there is one thing both our mothers do well, it is worry about our safety, after all, we do live in a glorified mobile tent.

However, this time was different. We looked at the information they had sent us which included a link to a New York Times article titled ‘Rare, highest-level tornado risk issued for Oklahoma and Kansas’. After seeing that we pulled up the NOAA weather forecast for the area and saw this hazardous weather advisory.

In about 20 minutes we had the truck packed up and were off. We have definitely dealt with our fair share of strong storms in the west, usually just very strong winds, heavy rain, and lightning. However, 3” hail falling onto and likely totaling our vehicle that is home isn’t a risk we can take, not to mention the whole ‘a few strong tornadoes’ part. We had to leave the area and boy are we glad we did! 145 miles to the south from where we were camped a large portion of the town of Barnsdall, Oklahoma was flattened, resulting in the death of one individual. We ended up spending the day logging our longest travel day on the trip so far traveling 530 miles. We pressed on to the east and abandoned our back roads tour for a bit in hopes of putting as much distance between us and the likelihood of severe hail and tornadoes as possible.

Arriving at camp after dark is something that we try so hard to avoid, especially in areas with high deer populations. This was a rare occasion for us but given our concerns, we pressed on into the night and pulled into Camp Cadiz on the edge of the Shawnee National Forest a little frazzled from such a long travel day. We settled into a level spot, set up our tent, and went to bed with still mostly full bellies from some fast food we had gotten along the way several hours earlier. It rained on us off and on through the night. The next morning we woke up to what seemed like calm weather and enjoyed a nice day of getting some work done. Later that day we spent some time observing some unique wildlife, including one of the largest pond slider turtles I’ve ever seen, and what looked like the very beginnings of the cicada emergence. After dinner, we wandered around camp a little and took a short drive on a nearby Nationals Forest road.

As the evening progressed, we watched the weather radar carefully. We knew that the storms that we had been running from the day before were going to eventually catch us again. We hoped that by the time they arrived in the area of southeastern Illinois that we were in, they would have lost a lot of their energy and would be less hazardous.

That night we went to bed with everything packed away in the truck. Our thoughts were that if we needed to in a moment we could close the tent and hopefully get to safety, or at least get out of the tent and quickly in the cab. We settled down watching the storm to our west produce nearly constant lightning. At 11 pm under a newly issued tornado watch, I woke Christina up, we got out of bed, closed the tent, and climbed into the cab of the truck. The storm was nearly on top of us at this point, the flashes of lightning had quickened, and it felt like a wise idea to be in a safer position. Once we were in the cab, we moved the truck as close as we could to a cement pit toilet in the campground. Thinking that if the winds picked up, or that the watch was elevated to a warning we would leave the truck and hunker down in the relative safety of the small cement building.

From the hours between 11 pm to 2 am we stayed in the cab, glued to the truck windows and our phones as we watched two storms converge over us. We listened to the radio and watched a sky that was lit nearly constantly by flashes of lightning. The winds would pick up occasionally with thick curtains of rain washing over us from time to time, a small stream formed in the road in front of us.

After 2 am the storm seemed to have passed us, and with it, the tornado watch alert as well. We tried for a while to sleep in the cab, sleep came easily by this point, but never lasted long. Finally at 3 am under a much calmer sky, we set the tent back up and climbed back into bed. We both slept like the dead.

Wednesday morning we both woke up exhausted and were out of bed pretty early. The weather had cleared and we were under a cloudless humid sky. We had a couple of hours to kill in the morning before Christina had her first meetings of the day, so we set off to find breakfast. The establishment that we landed at was likely the most unique dining experience either of us has had, let’s blame it on the lack of sleep. I think we both can say we have never eaten in an establishment in a more derelict building before or likely will again. After walking in, and realizing we were the only people there we started to question our decision. Not wanting to be rude, we sat down in unlevel seats with cracked vinyl cushion covers. As we ordered the simplest items on the menu, coffee, and a cheese omelet for me and coffee and toast for Christina, we listened to the owner, who was the only person working, complain about the town, how he retired from the coal mine, then opened this restaurant 20 years ago, it was nearly shut down at one point when he had to be hospitalized after a stroke which affected his balance and caused his hands to shake while he poured our coffee. After taking our order he disappeared back to the kitchen. While we waited, a small group of local senior women walked in and seated themselves in the center. They ordered their usuals with him which he had committed to memory. One of them who was 95 had been coming there the whole time he had been open, we thought that if the food hadn’t killed her yet, we would likely be just fine. We finished our food, chatted briefly with the ladies, paid our bill, thanked him for a good meal, and reminded ourselves that this was the reason we wanted to travel far off the main road. There are experiences and characters in these small communities of less than 300 people that a whole Netflix series could be made from, these are the places that the complexity and fabric of our country come from.

After breakfast we went to the truck wash to remove all the mud we had collected in the Flint Hills area. While I washed the truck, Christina took a few moments to check the weather. When I climbed back in she filled in on the news. More severe storms, hail, and tornadoes. Her eyes started to swell and gloss with tears from the built-up stress and lack of sleep as she told me. It was clear we needed to spend the day running from the storms again, not ideal. We pointed the truck East again, and I drove us another 289 miles, while she worked from the passenger seat. There was a lot of confusion about where we should go, how much time we could drive, and where would be safest.

Other than stopping for fuel, we made no stops that day, putting big stretches of pavement behind us. Along the way, Christina would look at the camp options that I had marked weeks in advance. Originally they were meant to be only an hour’s drive or potentially two apart, that day we would drive past many of them, none of which felt good for the night. Together we decided that camping for another night in foul weather wasn’t in the cards for us. With some searching, she was able to find the Origin Hotel in Lexington, KY which has a large parking garage close by that the truck could live under to protect it from hail. We spent Wednesday and Thursday night there, getting in some much-needed rest and relaxation and recovering from the stresses of some very unstable midwestern weather.

After our check out Friday morning, we hung out in the lobby of the hotel to finish out our work day. I had spent some time looking over maps and decided that we should venture into the Red River Gorge area for the coming weekend. We still needed some relaxation and spending some time on our feet hiking in that area seemed like a wonderful way to do it. I again set Google Maps to avoid highways and we enjoyed a slow-paced drive through beautiful rolling hills of central Kentucky.

Apon arriving in the Daniel Boone National Forest we drove a small section of the Daniel Boone Backcountry Byway in search of camp, but determined it to be too muddy to find a comfortable camp for several days, we turned around and pressed on to find other options.

About an hour or so before sunset, we found a convenient place to call home for the night, at the trailhead of the trail system that we planned to hike the next day. We spent some time wandering a short way down the trail to soak in the evening light and take in the smells of the blooming forest.

This first week of being fully back on the road was completely full of it all for us, but it still had one final surprise in store for us. We had already climbed into bed, and just before completely falling asleep I got up to go to the bathroom one last time. When I walked through the parking lot I looked up. What I saw confused me at first, we were too far from any town to see light pollution, but the sky was filled with a faint haze of light. A moment later I remembered that I had seen a small thing online about a really strong solar storm that we were passing through. Excitedly I grabbed my phone and pointed it to the sky to confirm my suspicions. With a quick night photo, I instantly recognized the green glow of the Aurora Borealis. I excitedly yelled to Christina to get out of the truck and to come look. As she climbed out I grabbed my camera and tripod. What followed is something that I never expected to see in the heart of Kentucky. For several hours the sky lit up with columns of light and waves of blue green red, and purple.

Eventually, we called it a night, as we went to bed we chuckled about what a freaking crazy 1st week of being back on the road it had been! From what felt like literally running for our lives to staring at the northern lights with our jaws on the ground, it was and still is hard to believe that all of that happened in such a short period of time, no doubt it will still take us so much longer to process all of this.